Morning climb

I arrived at the office, ready to take on my stair challenge for Lent.

Our office is on the third floor and so I've decided to get rid of my normal podcast to give me a little travelling music. 

Decided by fruit-based God of fate, my phone picked:

So far, so good. I mean it could have been much worse... trust me. But then a bad song may force me to walk quicker.

Anyway, was a little breathless come the top. And red faced. And cursing the colder weather for my thick winter coat.

But I know it'll get better.

The WTB has had an exciting day. She's been out with her mum and sister to hunt for 'the dress'. 

It has been found. Huzzah. Good news all round.

So, for the other part of my lent deal. I've chased some things for the big day and the bike. Once I'm home tomorrow night I'm hoping I'll be able to saddle up for a wee bit and get Monty some air.

Talking of the wonderful machine, I may get Monty a bell. The WTB asked why...

...

Um...

The only thing I could think of was: What else would I ring?

I think that should win that fight for now.

Surely every cyclist has one? 

They're cool, right? 

Right?

Tricky

It has been 'one of those days.'

You know the ones. Nothing has been straightforward but I feel these are the days you can learn from. I've actually quite enjoyed it. It's good to have a tricky day to negotiate.

As long as you don't spend hours looking back, picking out the smallest detail of things, you can learn a lot.

Except... well I tend to linger on days like today. As a colleague of mine says, I 'torture' myself.

Ahem.

Crashing on.

Things are increasing on the wedding front. I'm not sure what bike/wedding things will start my lent run but I've had a couple of things to enjoy today.

Firstly, we've had something arrive for the invitations which is rather groovy. The things, and I can't wait to tell you what they are but I assume everything I know about the wedding is under embargo (it just helps things with the WTB), have come out much better than I imagined. They're very, um, us.  Especially the colour.

Secondly, stag business is picking up The best man and the best woman have been busy bees. Lovely stuff.

I'm ready for lent I think. I hope my body's ready for it too.

Fresh goals

Every year I give up something for lent.

For those who don't know here's a link but the crux of it is you give something up for 40 days.

In the past I've given up chocolate (quite easy), crisps (tough) and caffeine (perhaps the silliest thing I've ever done).

This year I've decided up to up the ante somewhat. I'm taking on three things.

I did look at giving things up but, let's face it, we haven't got much to give up. We've cut out sweet stuff, I haven't bought a packet of crisps since the new year and that would just leave booze.

Er...

We have the WTB's 30th coming up and, let's be honest, it probably won't be without a drink or two.

So, the plan is this. Every day I will spurn the lift and I'm using the stairs to the third floor.

Then I will also do one thing for the wedding and one thing for the bike per day.

My aim? To be riding properly before the end of lent.

I may not make it but man, I love a deadline.

Cool and the gang

According to the BBC I'm about to become cool.

I say about to become cool. I know it'll take a while to get in with the in-crowd, but cycling does seem to be hitting the headlines. It could be that I'm more aware of cycling stories but, dammit, this is my blog and I'm sticking by it.

I've never been cool. I've had some cool hobbies like lomography and liked some cool music but when you love choral music and drink whisk(e)y, cool isn't the word that springs to mind.

Middle class? Maybe.

Middle aged? Before my time but oh yes.

Cool? Nah.

I feel safe in the knowledge that I'll be among that group of cyclists that just kind of plods along and does his thing.

Hopefully it'll give me a bit of longevity. It dawned on me today I never wanted to learn this skill more than I do at the moment. I just want to get the learning over and get out there.

I know it's little and often but I think frustration is hitting again.

The hard sell

"So, you'll want stabilisers."

I walked into my local bike shop for the first time and I felt like I'd entered a secret society.

Shacklegriblers hung from walls. Men with focused faces walked about with purpose. Words were whispered in code.

I felt a tad out of my depth.

It's weird. I've spent years hiding the fact that I couldn't ride a bike. Excuses were made with friends and, on press trips, I had to pretend I had a phobia.
But since writing this blog, I've been admitting it to so many people. It's now like a badge of honour. "Yes, I can't ride a bike. But dammit, I'm trying to learn."

And so here I was, in a shop I'd walked past hundreds of times before. By the way, this ranks as the second manliest thing I've done, after buying a hammer.

I'd gone in to pick up a pump. While Monty has a nifty one that I occasionally will use as a stand-in lightsaber (stand-in, that is, until they perfect the science), Diana needed a new one. She's got this weird valve (ahem) which needed an adaptor and a pump.

Anyway, in I went.

I went for the casual browser method of shopping to start off with. Just looking around and blending in with the background. I wouldn't stand out, I'd just seem like a man who'd been in a thousand bike shops before. I was one of them.

When I realised I was the only one in the shop,  I approached the chap behind the counter. He went for the hard sell at first, pointing me in the direction of the second coolest looking pump I'd ever seen. You could stand on it and push a plunger up and down. I guess it's based on one of those vehicles you see on train tracks in films, usually controlled by someone causing mischief or in a mishap.

When I told him about the learning the stabiliser suggestion hit the table. I gave a polite laugh, guessing he was joking.

He wasn't.

He seemed a little upset.

A little embarrassed, I picked up the cheapest pump in the shop, a free cycling map and a leaflet from the groovy people at Sustrans for a bike pack. Lovely.

I'm trying to get into the whole bike culture. I've joined The Times Cycle Safety campaign and now I've been in my first bike shop.

Let's hope the second visit is a little more successful.

Counting down

So we've roared into February and the wedding is another month closer.
Not that I'm panicking. Oh no. I am a perfect example of a relaxed gentleman. My hands are not shaking. My brow is not furrowed.
I've always said that the wedding and what it means does not worry me. It's all the things that come with the day.
We've got a lot to do and, as a scientist will verify, even less time than yesterday.

And yet...

Well if you don't stop and smell the flowers on occasion it will pass you by. Tonight, we're having a night on the sofa. We've had a little bit of chocolate and we're having a night off.

OK, I know, I've avoided the bags of chocolate in work, tortured myself about it, and now I go and break the sweet treat embargo. The difference? Well, not much if I'm truthful.
But, as they say in some dodgy American reality shows (not that I watch them) I've done it on my own terms. The choc has been weighed out and put away. We've rationed it and we're being truthful about what we've had.

The tasty lapse doesn't mean I've forgotten my quest for fitness.

Tomorrow, as mentioned, it's my day off and Monty comes out hiding for a breath of fresh air. They're letting me out unsupervised. Whether that's a wise thing we can only wonder... until tomorrow. Obviously. Then we'll probably realise it wasn't a good move.

In the afternoon, I'm looking at a gym. I say gym, apparently it's a fitness 'studio' which means they want me to do fitness classes.



Stopped laughing?



How about now?


I'm tempted to try a circuits class, depending on how shouty the trainers turn out to be. I'm not good at being yelled at during fitness classes and so I'll only take a session if I can wear earplugs.
Or earmuffs.

I'll pick ear protection depending on the season.

The white stuff

Today I was meant to fit in a session on Monty. By that I mean another go at the scoot-weeee-balance thingy.
But this afternoon it started to snow. And it's still snowing.
While I appreciate and enjoy a challenge, the idea for my second lesson was not: How to cope in the next ice age.

So instead we've hit the wedding prep. WTB has been to two wedding dress shops and, after meeting for lunch (and maybe one nip to a pub, for a wee nip) we popped to the travel agents.
There then seemed to be a whizz of numbers, words and phrases.
The whole thing flashed by me in what seemed a matter of minutes. I remember the hotels we looked at. I remember the destination. But some of the finer details? Please ask me a question on quantum physics instead.

I'm now sat at home, with the WTB on another dress mission with Timi. I've drunk one hot choc instead of having a beer. It was banana flavour.

It really is rock and roll in the Doney house today.

Bring on the Six Nations. It's my favourite sporting tournament in the world. I may celebrate with a white chocolate low-cal hot choc now.

No pain, no gain

There comes a time when you have a dining experience that blows everything else out of the water.

When the finest ingredients work in harmony with each other.

When the chef is at the top of their game.

When the ambiance and experience of your venue blends seamlessly with your state of mind.


Tonight I had baked beans and fish fingers for tea.


While it goes completely against what I should be eating, and while there was nothing fresh in sight, it was bloody good.
The tasty breadcrumbed fish worked beautifully with the tomatoey beans. The chef had cooked the meal perfectly. And, with an old episode of The Simpsons on, it was a nice time to relax.

So, while the WTB was enjoying a double zumba spectacular, I was tucking into the best that Cpt Birdseye and Mr Heinz had to offer. Pure comfort food.

Saturday. That's my next bike lesson. I spoke to my eldest brother Rich and he recommended the gel pad I fitted to the saddle on Sunday. "You'll get callouses in place you didn't know existed," he said, chuckling down the phone.
He's right you know. I'm pretty sure I've got a normal body but once I start riding properly (see, positive thinking) there will be aches and pains in my shacklegribbler.
And, while I'm laughing here at the Carry On-esque sentence I've just written, give me a few weeks and I'll look back at those words and curse that innuendo-laden sentence.

As I'm working Sunday I've got Tuesday off. Yet another day of avoiding the pub and I'm planning to do some riding on my own.

Bravery, don't fail me now.

It's about time

I think it's getting to the stage where I need to make time for exercise.

It's really annoying when people say: "The more time you put in the more time you find you have."
That's wrong for many reasons, the main one being we only have 24 hours in one day. This does not change.

OK, I'm taking things to literally but it's getting to me.


Tonight, I had planned to take Monty out for a quick breather in the cold evening air. I know, bikes can't actually breathe but she's locked up all day. The least I can do is give her a change of scenery. And yes, I know it's freezing outside but after a day at the desk it's nice to have a bit of time outside.
Yet I just can't seem to squeeze it in.
After cooking tea, washing up, taking down the washing, hanging out the washing, prepping and cooking lunch for the week, Monty is still tucked away and it's now gone 10pm.

I know I'm in some strange middle ground at the moment. Once I've learnt to a decent level I can take Monty to work and go on a longer jaunt on the way home. At the moment tho, I need time to get myself to that level.

Call this a mild panic. Label this as a temper tantrum. I'm just a tad frustrated.

Changing man

As you may be able to tell, quite a few things are changing for me at the minute.

The veg bowl is now overflowing in the kitchen. That's not weird granted. The odd thing is that it gets eaten during the week. We no longer stare at the aubergine, it's actually used in meals other than a Thai green curry.  The potato is rarely destined for my chip-esque oven bakes. Mash is now our potatoey treat for the week.

The weight is staying off. I'm lighter than I have been in ages.

I've been on a bike for the first time in a good twenty years. OK I haven't been on a ride (yet) but on the plus side I have avoided being a crumpled, crying mess of a man (so far).

And this blog. It has really been the first diary-style thing that I've maintained. I remember having a copy of the Roald Dahl Diary in one of my last few years of primary school. I always wanted to keep a diary but the young Doney's diary entries were dull. They were not the witty entries that TV showed me children of ten should be writing.

Granted, those TV children can still string a sentence better than I can but, let's face it, they're fictional and I have the upper hand in the realms of reality.

So thanks all. I'm not giving this up I'm just having a short break from my normal ramblings tonight to say thanks for reading this. It's keeping me focused and motivated.

This year is one of change. I'm getting married. I'm turning 30. I'm taming the bike-shaped beast that has haunted me for the majority of my life.

Schmaltz over. Tomorrow, I'm hoping to get back on the bike.

Balancing act

If you're ever learning a new skill, then my advice is the day before you start don't have too many drinks.

Sadly, I don't take my own advice.

It has been quite a busy few days. On Friday I payed a flying visit to Cornwall to catch up with my niece before she turned two. Saturday saw me tackle some wedding bits, complete some housework, cook and fit in a small gym session with my friend Timi.
On Saturday night we decided to blow off some steam.

I don't know if this is a sensible thing or a stupid thing but we ended up playing drinking games with wine.

I know.

It's stupid.

The WTB and I didn't stumble home too late but, come the morning, the mild hangover and the extreme Thai Red Bull were having an influence on our mental state. It was cold. My head ached. Dehydration had it.

Really, it was the perfect condition to start my bike riding quest.

After struggling down to the bike store, Monty was brought up, the saddle changed (to something a little more forgiving) and I was ready for my debut scoot-weeeeee-balance session.

You know what? It was fine.

I'm not saying that within a couple of days I should be up and running but, in the words of the WTB, my balance was better than expected.

It really was fine. I can keep my legs off the floor for a bit so that's given me a bit of confidence.

Monty is a bit of a beast so I also had a go on Diana, the WTB's Dawes (see what we did there? I told you I like to name things).

Diana and Monty – together at last

Diana is a bit smaller, bit lighter and I find it easy to get my leg over with her...

Ahem

We did about and hour and while I still had some mental blocks – at one point I just couldn't get moving – I had, and this is the good part, fun.

I know it'll be a challenge, I know it'll get harder, but I could get used to this.

So next time you're hungover, dragging your body around and not making much sense, try learning a new skill.
Pick up a trombone and give it a play.
Write that novel.
Learn to juggle.
You'll be surprised how good it makes you feel.

Or just go for a fry-up.

Stepping forward

Is there a better dance than the Birdie Dance?
I've been thinking about the whole concept of the 'first dance' at our wedding and I'd like to narrow it down to either the Hokey Cokey or the Birdie Dance. Or Superman by Black Lace.
I'm not sure what the WTB will say.
I'm hoping it is yes.

Please excuse the delirium, I've got a day off on Friday after working on Sunday. It'll be nice to recharge the batteries.

Now we count down to Sunday and Monty's time in the fresh air.

The bike riding is becoming a mix of the elephant in the corner and something I feel I'm rabbiting on about. Whatever it is, the large flop-eared animal is dominating things at the moment.

To take my mind off things I'm going to the gym on Saturday. It'll be the first time in ages and I'm quite looking forward to it. It'll be something different

Then, come Sunday morning, it'll be on with the padded pants, gloves, helmet and we'll head to our top secret cycling spot for lessons.

If you happen to be passing through Cheltenham on Sunday and spot a grown man throwing a temper tantrum while covered in cuts or, if things go badly, you see a bike being thrown across a footpath, be sure to ignore me and pretend it didn't happen.

Small expectations

You know the saying "run before you can walk"? I think I'm suffering from the cycling version.

As I mooched my way home this evening, several cyclists shot by me, speeding off to their heated homes.

My head shot off after them. I have a bit of a wild imagination and that kicked in. I imagined myself joining them on their routes, waving my safety fez from my mighty Monty to all those pedalling pals who greeted my on my journey.

And then...

Well then, my sensible brain kicked in. That dream will take a chunk of time. I have to scale down my hopes to begin with. Get the balance first and the rest will hopefully come.
I'm going to take the attitude of little and often. I plan to drive my neighbours mad by using what's known as the scoot-weeeeeeee-balance method around the front of our home. It seems to be recommended by websites and, let's face it, it looks silly. I like silly.

To distract my brain tonight I've done some prep for the wedding. Forms completed, email written and numbers crunched.

I know the WTB has a lot more for me to do and I don't think sheltering in blog land is going to be safe for much longer this evening.

I can feel seating plan questions coming on. This, for me, should take the method as deployed in war films. Have a giant map, little models of each guest and push them around into position.

It would make the situation so much easier... and a lot more fun. You could move it on a bit. Give Aunt Mable a bazooka. Put my dad in charge of the mortar.

On second thoughts, maybe not.

Looking back and falling down

I guess the one thing I know will happen on Sunday is that I will fall off.

I will fall off and probably be a crumpled mess on the floor as the WTB looks at the sack of shame beneath her. And she giggles. She is one of those people who find You've Been Framed! hilarious.

So, no doubt, she will find my accidents very funny. And I use accidents in the plural - there will be more than one.

While my mind is probably playing tricks on me, and the WTB won't laugh too much, I have to face the facts that falling off is part of riding a bike whether you're a learner or a seasoned professional.

I think I can deal with the pain. It'll only be a few knocks and bumps leading to scrapes, scabs and weird marks on my legs/arms/torso. But, as with most things, it's the anticipation that's a killer. If I could only have a timetable of accidents planned out, then I could prepare. "Ah 2.05pm. I'll hit my ass in a minute. Time to clench."

As I prepare to get back on the bike, I can see all those moments I fell off in the past. The failed attempts at balancing. Those times I nearly had it... and then realised I didn't have it and the ground was getting closer to my body at an alarming rate.

But with those memories are fresh thoughts of enjoying bikes. Of going on boozy rides with my brothers and wobbling back in. Ideas of riding to work. Jaunts with the WTB. Dashing round town with a long list of errands like the Sultan of Cycling. Getting fit. Being in a decent shape for the wedding.

It's time to be confident about this.

While I may still be the sack of shame on the floor, I've just got to 'grow a pair' and get back on.

What's in a name?

I name a lot of things I own. The majority are bad puns or linked somehow to a C/D list celeb.

I have a Diana camera I call Vickers.

Our mint plant is called Murray.

Our thyme is called Chico.

I even make the WTB name things. Her Dawes bike we Christened Diana.

So, my bike. What should I call it? 

It's a Mongoose, kindly donated by my eldest brother. It's black with red writing. As it's a Mongoose I was tempted by Riki-Tiki-Tavi but that's a bit long. Instead I've gone for Monty. She is called Monty.

Monty is a python and mongooses fight snakes so there's a link, of sorts.

The countdown has begun until I get back in the saddle. I've spent some time looking at various blogs and accounts of people learning to ride at an advanced age. It's nice to know I'm not alone in this.

It's one of those situations where the more you learn, the more you realise how little you know

I've bought a cycling magazine, which I will be cribbing from so I can actually sound like I know something. Although a singular magazine won't help that much, it is a start.

My dad's motto is: Bullshit Baffles Brains. It's something I try and stick by and I know it'll come in useful when I start talking cycling to people. He uses the term shacklegribbler a lot. I may adopt it.

I've also checked out Bike Hub - it's rather nifty as it can help you plan routes around the area depending on what kind of experience you have or how far you can get there.

As you can tell, I'm taking this seriously. It's something I'd love to get sorted so I can get the miles in before the wedding in September.

I know that, to start, I'm going to fall off. I will fall off a lot. I know I'll probably cut myself. All I can do is keep getting back on until I get that balance.

Sitting comfortably

Big news - I have pants.

Well they're boxers but yesterday, after arriving home from a 96th birthday party (which was pretty top) I found the new arrival on our doorstep.

The padded pants will, as my middle brother put it the other night, make a big difference when I'm doing the hard miles.

Apart from maybe a spike or porcupine, there's surely nothing more uncomfortable than a bike saddle. It's a wonder of perseverance and grit that anyone can stay on one for more than a few minutes at a time. Just how is it done?

While I can't ride a bike at the moment, it doesn't mean I haven't tried in the past. And apart from the memories of tumbling, falling and general pain, the abiding memory is the uncomfortable seat of the orange and white BMX that was my first bike.

So, I pray the pants will solve this problem or, at least, give me a wee bit of comfort.

I'm writing this as the BBC's Call the Midwife is on.

Bear with me.

It seems my lack of skill is shared by Miranda Hart, in this programme at least.

In a case of art imitating life, she's not only playing someone who can't cycle but who is a whisky expert. Apart from being an upper class, 1950s midwife, the story could be mine.

A date has been set for next Sunday to try the cycling thing again. I'm currently searching websites and looking at different methods for the big day.

Coupled with this, I'm having wine. A nice glass of red. We've been well behaved today but we felt like a small tipple.

In diets, as well as cycling, it seems that balance is key.

Bike bits

Despite me not yet mastering the bike, I already seem to be collecting and desiring gadgets and gizmos.

I have started eyeing up things I don't have but have now realised I 'need'.

When I say 'need' I really mean bits I will use once and then put away or stash for a rainy day.

I better go over what I have.

To add to my nifty helmet, I already have some bike lights, which were a gift from my eldest brother Rich, and some gloves to protect my hands. My middle brother would be calling me an idiot for those but Ed, if you're reading this, people will be staring at the ridiculous man on the bike and ignoring he's wearing gloves.
I will be mocked as an ensemble.

I will be adding the aforementioned padded boxers/shorts,  a bike rack - for the car - and , not doubt, some  geeky/quirky cycling top.

The question is, what don't I need?

I'm new at this whole thing and so everything for sale seems cool and essential.

Cycling clogs? I want them for future trips to Holland.
Safety bananas? You can never have enough.
Biking whiskey? Surely, it's an essential.

I've taking photos for years so I know which kit I need. I have a gut instinct about what new pieces I should avoid. But bikes? Whole new playground.

It's quite fun really. It's a world of learning and new skills to acquire.

I've gotta get that balancing, pedalling thing sorted.

Big bonce

I've got a big head.

Scratch that.

I have a huge head.

I have a huge head and that has always been the way.

When I was eight I joined the Cubs. My mum, ever the stickler for being smart and wearing the correct uniform, made me wear the whole get-up.
For those who don't know, this consisted of:
Jumper
Scarf
Woggle
Socks and tabs (I think they're known as garters and I was the only boy in the pack to wear them. They were phased out soon after. Probably banned for just being that bit too cruel).
Cub cap (another item given the axe)


The cap was kinda cool in a geek chic crossed with public school sort of way. I say kinda as mine was special.
I took an XXXL and we had to order the thing in.

Even then, the bloody cap didn't fit. It just sat there, drawing attention to the boy with the head that looked normal but was, in fact, huge.

So yes, I've a bad history with hats.

Into my adult years I thought I was through this phase but, alas, I didn't think of the bike helmet I'd have to buy when I started my grand plan.

To say the range has been limited may be an understatement. Most, like the caps, just sat there on my noggin, echoing the ghosts of flat caps, baseball caps and wooly hats that have gone before.

Luckily, I found one that was subtle, suited me and was as discrete as I could ever need.

The Nutcase 'Union Jack' is my choice. Yes, I could have gone for quieter colours but at least I'll be seen.

I have to ride. It'll help my health and keep me focused on fitness before the wedding.

So, helmet done, bike ready, all I need to do is ride.

Oh and I must buy some comfy, padded pants. Just how can you last more than 30 seconds on a saddle?

Saddle up

Why is it that as soon as you've finished a diet or fitness boost, your brain tells you one of two things.

It either says: You've done it! Superb! You can now eat what you want!

Or it says: As soon as that third grape touches your mouth you'll put on eight stone.

The truth is somewhere between those two it's just your brain doesn't let you know that.

The brain can be a shit sometimes.

So yes, it was the first day off the diet. While we didn't indulge with a bucket of chocolate topped with chips, we did bring back some extra fruit and meat.

I have made changes to my diet.
Gone is the lovely ham I used to eat and in exchange I have turkey. The dry meat.

The cabbage soup has made me consider everything I eat.
Even if that was the only thing to take from the experience, that's an excellent thing to gain.
While it won't stop the odd binge it will stop the regular treats. Good for me, good for the weight.

An app is helping us keep track of calories so what I have to do now is the fitness side.

It's here I have to make a confession.

I cannot ride a bike.

A few posts ago I said that cycling wasn't an option just yet.
Well, it's because I can't cycle.
Oh I can get on a bike, but I'm a bit of an expert of falling over again and again.

So, before I turn 30 in a few months, I want to learn.

Wish me luck.